


A Hope Discovered

by TelepathJeneral



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Summary: The galaxy finds itself, as usual, caught in a conflict stretching across many systems and planets. The ships and stormtroopers look familiar, but there are a few vital differences, setting our senators and Sith Lords on very different courses.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

In the stark expanse of space, it could be difficult at first to identify two ships as items of creative make. Light from nearby stars reflected harshly against the silver and white of the two ships, and any observer might struggle to make out any identifying markings or insignia along the hulls. Indeed, given the link between the two ships, one might be forgiven for assuming that the two were merely a freighter and a resupply transport, or a shuttle and a cruiser. A short arm extended between the two ships, linking them with a sealed tube, and no cannon fire blasted from the turrets on either vessel. In the emptiness of vacuum, the two ships were silent and serene.

Inside the ships, however, was a much different story. Lights flashed and alarms rang out, men moving in quick military marches as they were directed down various corridors. Blaster fire left walls smoking in places, with deep scorch marks from the plasma bolts, and commanders shouted their orders over the general chaos. The stronger forces were the white-plated stormtroopers, expressionless in their mass-produced helmets, and they had advanced deep into the other ship after boarding from the connecting arm. Officers of various ranks moved behind them, unarmored but still wielding standard-issue firearms, and in a radius from their boarding point, Imperial troops marched through the corridors of the smaller, sleeker craft.

Contesting their advance were smaller groups of men and women, clad in more ceremonial garb but still nimble enough to turn and fight. Rather than the stark white of the exteriors, the inside of the smaller ship was done up in soothing colors of blue and purple, and these colors were echoed on the clothing of the resistance parties. Here and there, silver sparks indicated pieces of equipment designed for both form and function, and their streamlined firearms fit more comfortably into one hand. Though the resistance fighters could manage to move more quickly than the stormtroopers, their firepower was eventually outmatched, and they were forced into a reluctant, painful retreat as the Imperial troops advanced. The ship was not large, and there would be little room to hide. However, there was always the possibility of surrender.

Behind one group of stormtroopers, a lethal sound cut through the air. Like the high-pitched screech of metal on metal, a red blade came into existence from the hand of a dark-robed figure who then stepped forward to push past the stormtroopers and begin deflecting blaster bolts, advancing on the resistance party. Though loyal, the ship’s crew were no fools, and many turned to try and flee or scramble to a better vantage point. There was a single heartbeat, as the resistance fire subsided, when it seemed that the Imperial officers and troopers might shout out an order or begin the parley, but then the figure made its lethal advance.

The crimson blade caught its first victim full in the face, drowning out his scream in its dull hum. The robed figure spun the saber easily, dancing between another round of shots, and sprinted forward at full speed to cleanly bisect another resistance member. Within moments, the party that had held the corridor was reduced to bodies slumped against the sides of the corridor, clothing smoking in places from the saber. The dark-robed figure reached the end of the hallway, ignoring the shouts from the officers for a speedier advance, and finally reached out with a free hand to grasp at some unseen item.

From another corridor, a man in a red and blue uniform was suddenly dragged forward, pulled to the figure’s hand by an unseen force. He scrambled for his firearm, curling over his abdomen as the figure lifted their knee to hit him squarely in the solar plexus. Kneeling before the figure, the officer reached again for his weapon, his chin jerked upward as the figure grabbed his chin and held him in place. The saber retracted, the hilt returning to its place on the figure’s belt, and the man found himself staring upwards as the figure finally reached up to rip off the mask that had temporarily covered part of their face.

“Where is the  _ ambassador _ , Captain?” The woman was young, younger than many expected. Her skin was clear and smooth, dark hair pulled tightly back from her face. In the right situation, many would have called her beautiful. But the captain could only see the darkness of her eyes, the fire that burned in them strongly enough to consume entire ships, and the threat that was all too clear in her position and her tone.

“W-We told you, there was a slight technical malfunction--”

“Your scheduled course takes you nowhere near this section of the Outer Rim. If this is a relief vessel, where are your supplies? Where is your ambassador?”

“We are r-registered to the Naboo shipyards, we’ve come from Naboo!”

“Which makes you fugitives anyway. Tell me what I want to know, Captain, and I may be convinced to let you live.”

The man tried to scramble back, to escape her grip, but the woman yanked him forward so that their faces were mere inches apart. “We will tear this ship apart, Captain. But not until I have extracted every possible detail from your mind first.”

Behind them, stormtroopers rushed to their positions and continued down the corridors, ready now to ignore the tableau before them. The captain’s eyes flicked to watch them move, his tension increasing, but the sensation of something tightening at his throat returned his attention forcibly to the hand at his chin.

“Prepare yourself, Captain. I’m afraid this is not going to be pleasant.”

+++

On the deck of the Star Destroyer, the lights were not as bright or intense as in the midst of the battle, and officers had returned to their routines to leave the bridge at a low hum of activity. Deep within the command structure, nestled like a tumor around an aortic vein, sat a darker tactical room where a woman knelt, her hair freed from its pins to curl around her features. Dressed in black, she was difficult to distinguish against the deep shadows of the small room, made even deeper by the figure in wobbly blue projected before her.

“Incompetents. They allowed the information to slip right through our fingers!”

“This was your assignment. If I cannot trust you to command a ship effectively, then perhaps it is a command that should be reassigned.”

“No!” The woman moved, nearly jumping to her feet. “Lord Vader, you cannot!”

“Lady Anetia, this protestation does not become you.” The voice that echoed from the hologram was deep and sonorous, filtered through a mask but losing none of its disapproval. The figure turned to display his profile, looking away from the hologram transceiver in order to leave the woman huddling on the floor.

“Please. I can find the ambassador. And the tapes. This will not be allowed to go any further.”

“You’re correct. This will not be allowed to go any further.” A moment passed, the hum of machinery growing louder in the silence, and finally the hologram figure turned back to face his counterpart. “Leia. Leia, look at me.”

Slowly, with effort, the woman looked up again, her hands balled into fists against the ground. As she watched, Vader held out a hand in the blue of the hologram, reaching toward her across the lightyears.

“You will not fail in this.” Instead of disapproval, his voice held a hint of hope. “You are my child. You have the resources and the abilities you need to bring glory to the Empire. You will not fail.”

“Father.” Though the transciever would not pick it up, Leia trembled against the ground, staring up at the image before her. “Father, I cannot do this with the resources we have, this is--you know where this is? We have had to chase this ship to the  _ Outer Rim _ , to this ridiculous mudball of a planet. There are no garrisons, no orbital platforms,  _ nothing _ .”

“You have a Star Destroyer.” Vader gestured to her surroundings. “And you have your own talents. The Empire is putting its faith in you, my child.”

“I--” Leia nodded carefully, blinking back her uncertainty. “I hear you, Lord Vader.”

“Do not forget your training.” Vader bowed his head deeply, waiting a moment longer before terminating the connection. Left in the darkness, Leia remained kneeling, waiting until the only sound audible was the sound of her own breathing. She continued waiting, focusing by closing her eyes, until that sound too disappeared, leaving her in a void of sound and sight.

Then, by some unseen cue, she got to her feet again, waving open the door to exit back into the brightness of the corridor. There was work to be done, and Vader had made it clear that she was the one to do it.

She could not disappoint her father.

++

The ‘mudball’ planet hung in space, facing its twin stars, while the ISD entered a languid orbit above it. Though Leia, the Lady Anetia, had seized her quarry in the skies above the planet, several escape pods had managed to make it off the ship, bypassing the Imperial scans to thud home somewhere in the sands beneath. If someone had been watching the battle, they might have understood the relative importance of those ships. The Star Destroyer was distinct enough, yes, its huge wedge a dominant feature of Imperial space, but the other ship would be less familiar to the casual observer. Sleek and silver, it had entered this system more than once on very different missions. First, carrying its queen during a hectic escape, then again, a second time, carrying only that queen-turned-Senator and her Jedi protector.

This time, however, there was no queen to be found, and the young man piloting his escape craft felt himself  _ woefully _ unprotected.

“Artoo, just keep us on course for somewhere civilized!” Sandy-haired and comfortably tanned, the man sat in a seat much too clean for an escape pod, white robes draped artfully over his body. In front of him, the instrument panel blinked a variety of reds and greens, while the astromech to his right whistled rapidly as it accessed a nondescript port.

“Master Luke does not need your commentary, Artoo! Though I do agree with his sentiments…” A golden protocol droid sat strapped into a side seat behind the control seat, his arms extended at right angles to his body. “Oh, I do hope we avoid the mountain regions.”

“Well, Threepio, it’s looking like we don’t have a lot of choice.” Luke grimaced as he yanked on the control column, feeling the pod shudder as it tried to respond to the movement. It had been a long, long day, and this was not really how he intended to end it.

He could hear Threepio’s exclamations of concern as they entered the atmosphere, the pod spinning as it began to rattle with the friction, and Luke gritted his teeth as he braced for eventual impact. However, there were several thousand feet between atmosphere entry and the surface of the planet, and Luke found himself tensing ever further as Artoo beeped commentary to him. 

“There’s not much I’m doing about this, Artoo!”

“Master Luke, I am not certain how much these pods were designed for us to crash!” If nothing else, in addition to his billions of terabytes of protocol programming, See-Threepio also had a voice modulator with plenty of capacity for terrified screaming, which he demonstrated vividly as the pod finally reached its final descent. Luke and Artoo did what they could to brace for impact, their world slamming into darkness as the pod bounced twice, then buried itself in the desert sand. For several moments, the pod settled as the instrument panels blinked their complaints, finally subsiding as Luke groaned and shifted in his seat.

“Threepio. Threepio!”

“Oh. Oh! Oh, Master Luke!” Threepio’s ocular orbs blinked rapidly to life, providing some light to the darkened pod. Unfortunately, the bouncing had left the occupants of the pod suspended from the ‘ceiling’ of the pod, subject now to the planet’s gravity as they regained their awareness. Artoo beeped his own confirmation, disconnecting himself in order to crash to the ‘floor’, leaving Threepio fussing in the seat above him. “Artoo, don’t just leave Master Luke! We need you to put this pod back!”

However, another soft thud belied Luke’s movement, the man having unclipped himself from the crash webbing and lowering himself to the floor of the pod. Artoo shuddered as he got to his legs, rolling forward on the smooth surface of the pod interior, and Luke stood to his full height before smiling softly.

“Sorry, Threepio. I’m going to get you down from there, but it might not be pretty.”

“Well.” Threepio shifted uncomfortably, looking for Luke in the darkness. “I suppose I understand.”

“All right. Just hold still…” Luke reached up to locate the crash webbing around Threepio’s torso, stumbling back as he unfastened the connectors and was hit with the full weight of Threepio’s uncoordinated limbs. “Ouch!”

“I am sorry, Master Luke, it’s just--Well, I don’t have much control when upside down!” Threepio wailed, trying to assist as Luke set him upright. Beside them, Artoo twittered in a droid’s approximation of laughter, earning an offended gasp from Threepio.

“He’s more help than you were, you--you rust bucket!” Threepio complained, wobbling as he tried to follow Luke to the pod’s door. For his part, Artoo had already begun opening the door, letting it grind open to let the harsh sunlight pour in. “Master Luke?”

“Hang on, Threepio.” Luke nodded, waiting for Artoo to exit before climbing out of the pod door. With a bit more effort, they managed to get Threepio out into the sunlight, each of them finding their footing on the sand before studying the horizon. “Well, I suppose we’ll have some time to talk now. Where are we, Threepio?”

“Master Luke, could we not try the pod’s transmitters?” Threepio gestured to the pod, watching Luke intently. “The crash may not have ruined all of them.”

“Not this time. We can’t have the Imperials finding us.” Luke nodded, patting down his torso and thighs to assure himself of his belongings. “We’ll take the supplies, but we need to find some other resource for, well. Everything.”

“You mean--We’re walking?” Threepio leaned back in shock, watching Artoo begin his scans. “I really must protest, I was not designed for this kind of--”

“I have enough credits for a short trip, enough to get us off planet. We’re not too far from a spaceport, it looks like, and if we can just find a ship to hire, we can get back to Alderaan. Now, Threepio--” Luke shivered, despite the intense heat now engulfing him. “You remember the tapes? I have them on me, on my person, but if anything happens to me, I need you to take them. Give them to Artoo, but don’t leave his side. We can’t let these get back to the Empire.”

“Master Luke.” Threepio hesitated, wobbling with his awkward balance. “Master Luke, I am sure we will all make it back to Alderaan. I am sure!”

“Yes, well. We can’t be too careful.” Luke sighed, following Artoo down the slope of a dune in the direction of a tiny smudge on the horizon. “You never did tell me, Threepio. Where are we?”

“Tatooine, sir. It seems we are near the edge of something they locally call the ‘Dune Sea’.” Threepio tottered forward, looking up to study the bright blue sky overhead. “Sir, the database entries do include several references to local scavengers and  _ ruffians _ .”

“Then we’d better walk fast.” Luke nodded, setting off behind Artoo. Threepio paused, watching them move forward on the sand, then shook his head regretfully.

“Always our lot in life to suffer.” He murmured, following behind the other two with his stuttering, wobbling walk. Around their trio, the sands extended for several miles, stretching to the horizon and beyond. Despite the distance between Luke and his pursuers, both groups had very similar opinions of the planet to which fate had brought them. So often this planet had become the focus of plots to shape the entire galaxy, and once more the winds of fate would brush the Tatooine sands. 

Overhead, the Imperial Star Destroyer remained, a symbol of the Empire’s weight, while the trio beneath trudged through the sand, specks of white and gold against the immensity of tan around them. No one could be quite certain of the paths ahead, but events had begun unfolding which would bring old enemies into new confrontation, and perhaps allow new players to enter a decades-old game. 

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The Empire has ruled the galaxy with its iron fist for two decades. At its peak sits the Emperor Palpatine, who has crafted an Imperial presence based on his personal charisma and his single-minded pursuit of power. The Senate exists, in its reduced form, to support the Emperor’s aims, and at Palpatine’s right hand, a pair of dedicated enforcers carry out his will. The Sith Lord, Darth Vader, directs the Imperial army and commands its ships; the first appointed moff, the High Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, leads the civilian governments of the Empire’s sectors, governing the non-military efforts to support the Imperial lifestyle. The galaxy has made its transition quickly, accepting the bloody suppression of the Jedi as the necessary steps to glory, and suns continue to rise on thousands of worlds under Imperial control. These worlds are content.

And yet here, on the Outer Rim, discontent prevails. The Hutts and the Black Sun continue their battles to maintain the smuggling routes, and farmers of all species struggle to survive. It is here, on a desert planet at the edge of the galaxy, that the young Luke finds himself marching over the sands, feeling the edge of dehydration as the scorching Tatooine air leaches the moisture from his body.

“Artoo, try another sweep of the scanners. I want to make sure we’re not walking into something dangerous.”

“Master Luke--” Behind Luke, the protocol droid See-Threepio hurried to keep up, looking anxiously to the young man. “May I just say that  _ any  _ place on this planet is likely to be dangerous? Particularly to us droids, sir, seeing as there has hardly been any place suitable for us to rest.”

“I understand, Threepio, but we need to do what we can. We need to get back to Alderaan if this information is to make it to the Rebellion.” Luke nodded, grabbing at the loose edges of his flowing sleeves. “I’m glad you’re here, though, Threepio. You understand why we need to do this, right? I can’t give up now.”

“I...I know, Master Luke, but it all seems rather  _ dangerous _ .” Threepio shook his head, studying the buildings that had become progressively larger as their group had continued. “Being shot at and on the run? It’s no life for a droid!”

“Can you imagine being in Imperial custody? Trust me, Threepio, a little bit of walking is nothing compared to the restraining bolts they’d use.” Luke shielded his eyes from the sun, trying to see more details among the buildings. “Does the database tell you anything about the languages we’ll need? I’ll need you to translate when we get into the town.”

“Oh, ah--” Threepio nodded, consulting his internal records. “It seems likely that we will need to use Huttese, sir. Perhaps it would be wise to conceal our true allegiances until we are out of the system.”

“I can handle a bit of negotiation, Threepio.” Luke smiled, patting Artoo-Deetoo’s dome as they moved around a projection of craggy rock. “Might as well put the scanners away, Artoo. We’re close enough that we can ask the locals for directions.”

Stepping forward, Luke took the lead in their trio, pleased to note that at least there were some speeders and beasts of burden stationed near the outlying buildings. As they’d drawn near the town, Luke had revised his opinion to decide that this ‘small settlement’ was a bit larger than he’d originally estimated, and was privately glad that there was a high probability of finding a suitable pilot. It was not an easy job, being on the run, but one in which he’d developed a high level of proficiency.

His role, he considered as they entered the first true road, was a confusing one. Mon Mothma and Bail Organa retained the title of ‘Senator’, but Luke had never reached that status, primarily because he lacked any planet to properly represent. He was biologically human, yes, but his childhood had been spent among Rodians, Mon Calamari, Pauans--beings of all makeups and orientations. Artoo and See-Threepio had been his close companions, and he had grown to love their quirks and droid-centered perspective, and the crews of various ships from various planets had all accepted him to one level or another. Even his name was a matter of debate: “Luke” worked just fine, in his opinion, and he had no need for anything else, but it was often simpler to take Senator Organa’s name when traveling. Most beings simply assumed that Luke was Bail’s younger, very distant cousin from some backwater on Alderaan, and Luke was in no hurry to dissuade them of that assumption.

Even so, it was possible--however slightly--that the name of ‘Organa’ would not work as well on Tatooine as it might on Hosnian Prime. With Artoo and Threepio flanking him, Luke paced through the roads of the city while trying to invent a suitable cover story, regretting the necessity for such deception. However, his mind was wandering, and it took several distressed beeps and whistles from Artoo before Luke realized that someone was trying to redirect See-Threepio.

“Hey!” Luke shouted, rushing to the alley where a baggy-skinned Dug was tugging on Threepio’s arm. “Hey, that’s my droid! You can’t just take him!”

“Eh, I see no bolt!” The Dug pointed out, jabbing a finger at Luke. “Watch where you go, boy.” 

“I just--” Luke stopped himself, clearing his throat. “Is this how Tatooine treats all her guests?”

At this, the Dug burst out laughing, grabbing his stubby torso with both hands as he rocked back. Luke winced as the sound drew the attention of several other passers-by, their glares and eyestalks making Luke all too aware of the scrutiny. “Un ni joka! Ja pahoota! Tatooine  _ has  _ no guests, bukee, and given that you came out of the desert, you’re no guest we need.”

Luke took a step back, glancing at his robes in concern. True, after the hours of walking, the gentle creamy white had become a dusty, dingy brown, and he internally winced to consider what he might smell like. However, the Dug didn’t seem to care, pushing past Luke to rejoin the flow of traffic.

“Wait!” Luke reached out, offering his friendliest smile. “My good sir, I just need to know--can you direct me to the spaceport?”

“Ah, gusha bukee…” The Dug shook his head, sighing roughly. “You would be better off selling the droids.”

“What?” Threepio jerked back in shock. “Master Luke--”

“Quiet, Threepio. No, I am serious.” Luke smiled again, spreading his arms wide. “I simply need transportation. I am a simple man, with simple needs.”

“Eh, what you’d hear over half of Mos Espa.” The Dug tutted, folding his arms. “Fine. Keep to the southwest and you’ll find the smaller hangars. Since you’ve got no goods to sell, the transports might be bothered taking you off planet.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” Luke bowed deeply, letting his robes accentuate the movement. The Dug seemed discomfited by the deference, backing away, but nodded a few times in acceptance of the thanks. 

“They won’t be looking for workers, though! You’d better be ready to pay!”

“I will inform them of your generosity.” Luke straightened, beckoning for the droids to follow, and began moving to take a south-facing street.

“Tell them it’s Dakego who sent you!” The Dug called after them, distracting Threepio as he struggled to keep up. Threepio drew close to Luke, nearly close enough to step on his robes, and tried to lower his voice to a conspiratorial whisper--which was difficult doing, for a droid.

“Master Luke, it seems this ‘Mos Espa’ is not a place that takes kindly to visitors. I suggest we move on quickly.”

“I’m trying, Threepio.” Luke shushed him gently, now more attuned to his surroundings as he kept to the side of the street. Rather than rely on Threepio or Artoo for his information, Luke tried to open himself to the world around him, drawing in his own observations to inform him of what to expect.

There were humans, which was a small comfort. Even better, a majority of the city’s residents seemed to be wearing robes of some form as well, meaning that he was already “blending in” rather well. Taking notes from the figures he passed, Luke reached to adjust the neckline of his own robes, tugging them upwards to extend into a headscarf. It was difficult, but not impossible, and Luke recognized that he would be replacing the robes anyway. A few tears here and there wouldn’t be so bad--and it would help him fit in better!

To Dakego’s credit, there was indeed a smaller spaceport to the south, and Luke could recognize the larger forms of hangars and landing pads as they drew closer. It took some time for him to identify the entrance to the actual spaceport area, but finally, Luke was able to crouch beneath a large arched entrance, rubbing his face to try and dispel the exhaustion that had begun to hang on him. 

“Master Luke?” Threepio stood before Luke, angling his head in concern. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, Threepio. I’ll be fine.” Luke exhaled slowly, studying the streets again. “We’ve just been walking for a while. I suppose I’m beginning to understand your difficulties as a droid!”

“Yes, well.” Threepio shuffled to one side, gesturing to the other beings nearby. “There are a variety of other commodities nearby. Perhaps a momentary change, to sit and rest, would be beneficial?”

“Mm. Perhaps.” Luke nodded, watching the flow of traffic. To Threepio’s credit, there were a number of bars and cantinas nearby, and Luke had to assume that a majority of the patrons were spacers or pilots. This  _ was _ a backwater planet, after all. And he’d already been part of a number of meetings held in back rooms or gambling parlors. It wouldn’t be so strange to try and find a pilot in the cantina, rather than using the official spaceport roster. He’d probably save money on the deal! Coming to a conclusion, Luke stood again, dusting off his legs before beckoning to the droids. “You’re right, Threepio. A chance to sit and get something to drink would be useful. Stay close.”

“Of course.” Threepio confirmed. Crossing the street into the cantina, the trio moved easily to a side corner, Luke rubbing his hands together in order to focus his thoughts once more as his eyes adjusted. The cantina was a dark, dingy little place, filled with noise and conversation. Luke could identify only a handful of the species present, chiding himself for the lack of his studying. Part of his role was to understand all kinds of species, reaching out to them to establish accords or ‘understandings’. Senator Organa had worked hard to impress this on him, the need for understanding non-humans and going beyond mere diplomacy: it took effort to establish oneself in another point of view, and to understand even your vilest opponents. Luke couldn’t say it was easy, but he figured he would have plenty of opportunity to practice. 

Glares from the bar made Luke suddenly self-conscious, and he glanced again at his outfit to determine what might make him out of place. To his left, Threepio wobbled uncertainly, following Luke’s gaze. 

“Master Luke, there is a possibility that we may not be welcome here.”

“Hey! Get the droids out of here!” A stout bartender finally called, wiping his hands on a rag. “If y’ain’t a payin’ customer, I don’t want y’ in here!”

“Oh! Oh, right.” Luke scrambled to find the credits he still possessed, waving away the droids with an apologetic glance. “Sorry, Threepio, just...just wait where we waited before, okay?”

“Of course, Master Luke.” Threepio nodded deferentially, toddling back to the cantina doorway. “Come along, Artoo.”

As the droids rolled or wobbled away, Luke made his way up to the bar, smiling softly. “My apologies, sir, I’d forgotten where I was. Just came in, see, and thinking about hiring some help.”

“I ain’t in the market.” The barman sneered, leaning onto the bartop. “If you want a worker, there’s a bounty board by the spaceport entrance.”

“Oh, I don’t hang around spaceports. Noisy places.” Luke shrugged easily, laying a credit on the bar and indicating a small bottle to the side. As the barman poured a glass, Luke tried to relax, forcing his expression even wider and more genial. “You seem like a man who knows his business. Knows his  _ customers _ . Can I rely on you to give me an accurate recommendation?”

The barman curled a lip derisively, setting a glass in front of Luke before considering the idea. “New in town. Dangerous, for a kid like you.”

“Well, you seem like a busy guy. You see a lot of people. Dangerous types, not-so-dangerous types…” Luke shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. Bitter...but not  _ that _ bad. “I just need someone who’s not flashy enough to rob me and dumb enough to get the job done.”

At that, the barman laughed once, setting aside his rag. “Okay, so you’re not as dumb as you look. Now, because I like you, I can give you a tip. That one, over there--” The barman pointed to a far corner, hidden in shadow. “He’ll be cheap, I can tell you that. Don’t let him overcharge you. He has a mate and a cargo ship for whatever you need, and that’s  _ all _ . Whatever else he promises, he’s lying.”

“Then perhaps you should tell me his name first! Sounds like he’d try to cheat me out of  _ that _ , too!” Luke laughed with the barman, mirroring the man’s open posture. This was less honest negotiation, he considered, but still useful…

“Of course! The man’s Solo. If you meet that carpet he calls a mate, that’ll be Chewbacca. They can’t afford to turn down good work, so you should have plenty of negotiation to work with.” The barman nodded, offering a toothy smile as Luke set down another credit chip. “Mm. Not often we get ‘good-natured’ outsiders.”

Luke said nothing, simply smiling again as he left his seat at the bar and maneuvered to the seat in the corner. A human male, with a vest that reminded Luke of a bad salesman more than a ship’s pilot, lounged across two seats, swirling a cup slowly. Luke considered his best introduction, then decided to take a seat for himself, inserting himself into the table’s arrangement to gain the man’s attention.

As he’d expected, his arrival made Solo jump. Luke reached up to pull down his impromptu headscarf, watching as Solo’s eyes widened in confusion, then in interest. Without hesitation, the man offered a smooth, practiced smile, leaning forward to sweep his cup aside. “Well, handsome. Looks like you’re in the market for  _ something _ .”

“How astute.” Luke could not be certain of the man’s aims immediately, but he cleared his throat to keep them both on task. “I need a ship.”

“A ship, I can get.” Solo nodded quickly, sitting up straighter. “Name’s Han Solo, captain of the Millenium Falcon. You have cargo?”

“No, no cargo. Just myself, and two droids.” Luke nodded back, pleased to at last be making  _ progress _ . “We need passage to Alderaan as soon as you can get it.”

“Alderaan? Well, it’s  _ doable _ .” Solo seemed to consider the prospect, leaning back again. “Not much other work for me in that direction. You’d have to make it worth my while. Say, twenty thousand credits?”

“Twenty?” Luke started, forcing himself to soothe the irritation in his voice. “Twenty thousand. For one being and two droids who will consume little?”

“There’s a Star Destroyer spotted in the system. That’s going to make it tricky getting out quickly.” Solo shrugged. “Droids or no droids.”

“What, you’re going to let a little Star Destroyer get in your way? I could walk down the street and find five other pilots willing to run the risk just for the thrill of it.”

“Fine. Fifteen thousand, for the ‘thrill’.”

Luke shrugged, affecting the disinterested shake of the head common to disgruntled buyers. “I could get a ship of my own for ten thousand, and have a good enough chance piloting it for the money.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing, kid.”

“Listen, I’m trying to help you out! You need a job, and I need a ship.”

“You’re a terrible negotiator.”

“Seven thousand.”

“Seven!” Solo sat up, jarring the table. “I can’t go lower than ten!”

“Eight.”

“Now you’re just joking.”

“Fine.” Luke offered a wide grin, hunching forward over the table. “Five thousand up front, and another seven when we get to Alderaan. For the pleasure of indulging me, let’s say.”

“Well, now, that’s a little better.” Solo grinned back, nodding. “You know, I can’t say I care much for this little game you like playing. I could teach you a better one--you know it? Sabacc?”

“We’ll have time enough during the flight to learn.” Luke confirmed with a nod, moving to stand. “Myself and the droids will be ready within the hour.”

“A quick exit? You weren’t kidding! Well, find us at landing pad forty nine. If I’m not there, Chewie will be. Oh.” Solo nodded, realizing the detail he’d missed. “Chewie, he’s my first mate. Big guy, shaggy hair. Looks like a walking rug. You can’t miss him, if you’re in the right place.”

“Forty nine. We’ll find you there.” Luke stood to go, letting his robes conceal him fully once more. As he exited the bar, he blinked to find himself facing a dusky Tatooine sunset, the first few lights of night markets beginning to dot the city skyline. To his relief, Artoo and See-Threepio rushed to his side, Artoo already burbling with excitement.

“Yes, yes, we have a ship.” Luke rested a hand on Artoo’s dome, shivering as the first winds brought the night chill to him. “A ship, and a captain. Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Well, Master Luke, it was certainly no picnic! They kept questioning us about our registration, and we had to move three times!” Threepio said in a rush, keeping close to Luke. “Dreadful.”

“Well, it’s over now. We’ll be back to Alderaan within the next day or so, and then you can get a proper service assessment.” Luke promised, guiding them into the spaceport proper. A few more days, and this little episode would all be over. And the war, as impromptu as it was, would be another step closer to being over.


	3. Chapter 3

Again Leia stood before a wavering hologram, but this time there were two figures, not one, facing her. She was able to stand now as a full member of the Imperial hierarchy, bearing the weight of two observers as she outlined her report.

“We were unable to confirm any information about the ambassador specifically, but we know the tapes are on planet. Scouts have already begun preparations for landing and full planetary sweeps.” Leia offered a crisp salute, looking first to Darth Vader, then to the slightly shorter figure of High Moff Tarkin standing beside him. “Data from the ship indicates that we are looking for an ‘Organa’, although this is unlikely to be Senator Organa himself. Likely a cousin, or sub-aide of some sort.”

“Odd that someone of low rank would be entrusted with this mission.” Tarkin’s voice came through the transmitter crisp and clear, matching his spotless uniform.

“A spy, then, using a false identity.” Vader cut in, his deep tones a seamless counterpoint to Tarkin’s refined eloquence. “We know that the ship made contact with the Rebels on Dantooine, and that a full sweep of their cities has not produced any results. Those tapes must be with the escaped members of the Naboo starship.”

“There’s been an enforced blockade system, but Tatooine is more populated than Dantooine.” Leia suppressed a grimace, tensing her shoulders. “The Hutts have not taken kindly to a Star Destroyer in their system.”

“The Hutts would be better suited worrying over their own concerns than the concerns of the Empire.” Vader’s voice was even deeper, though Tarkin was quick to make an appeasing gesture toward the Sith Lord. 

“Though I agree, Lady Anetia, the Empire is in no place to challenge the Hutts. Establishing a blockade will be touchy.” Tarkin nodded his approval, watching Leia closely. “You are a single Star Destroyer. Your resources are not limitless.”

“I will recover those tapes, Governor.” Leia bowed, clasping her hands behind her back. “Lord Vader, Governor Tarkin, could I...know what is on the tapes? I understand that any information in Rebel hands is a liability, but if I know the details--”

“The information on those tapes is of crucial importance to the Empire!” Vader pushed past Tarkin again, raising a gloved fist. “Show us you can recover those tapes, and perhaps  _ then _ we can come to the issue of discussing their contents.”

“Lord Vader--”

“Is entirely correct, my lady.” Tarkin continued. “I can tell you that this is one of the most vital endeavors of the Empire’s history, and will shape the future of Imperial policy. You will understand, then, that we cannot divulge this information carelessly.”

“I--” Leia hesitated, swallowing her pride. This was not the time or place. “Of course, Governor.” There was so much more she could say, that she  _ wanted _ to say, but with the eyes of Darth Vader  _ and _ Moff Tarkin on you, one did not tend to babble. Bowing, Leia backed away from the transmitter, waiting for the routine sign-offs to conclude before watching the hologram fizzle away into nothingness.

As soon as the transmission ended, she slammed both fists onto the display table, hissing in a breath between clenched teeth as she tried to focus. This was  _ impossible _ . Tracking a tiny set of tapes over not just one, but now two planets, all while she still didn’t have a description or idea of the exact target who might be carrying them? She was good, but she wasn’t  _ that  _ good.

Her life had consisted mostly of instructions: first from Emperor Palpatine, then from Darth Vader, and finally from Moff Tarkin. She was the Empire’s creature, the first of a truly  _ useful _ order applied to Imperial ends. She had spent years facing the training, the sparring and the beatings and the pain, and had dragged up her abilities and honed them into a weapon of her own making. She was a child of Darth Vader, Force-sensitive just as he was, and she now had the dark armor and red saber to complement him. While Vader could lead the publicized missions, she was left to spearhead the espionage efforts, working in the shadows to subdue the Empire’s enemies before the public ever knew of them.

This business with ‘Organa’ was a prime example. No one would ever look at Senator Bail Organa and imagine him as an enemy of the Empire, and Leia herself admitted that the man was disarming. Yet he’d ended up at the center of multiple plots already, the spider in a web of plots and counter-plots. Leia hated acknowledging them with the title of “Rebellion”, but it was what they had become: terrorist cells now with the funding and political clout to start making demands. Information was their lifeblood, and even if the Emperor controlled the HoloNet, transmissions and data packets were still available, and with enough effort, the Rebellion could get very valuable data into a number of nefarious hands. 

Worse yet, some of them were able to use that data to pry open Imperial systems, effecting hit-and-run operations that left supply lines bleeding open or facilities woefully under-staffed. Leia struggled to reassure her own staff of the insignificance of the Rebellion, especially when she herself was faced with a dire lack of resources, and now facing the galactic equivalent of finding a needle in a haystack. 

“Commander!” A lieutenant appeared at the doorway to her tactical rooms, entering the darkness with a doorway of light. “We have a ship preparing to take off and it’s not answering our hails!”

“Do not interrupt me!” Leia seethed, whirling to face the lieutenant with her arms outstretched. Her hair had become to come loose from its fastenings, draping over her cheeks, and the lieutenant backed away carefully as he nodded.

“But--you needed to know--”

“Maintain your monitoring and  _ wait _ for my summons!” Leia commanded, moving quickly to the door in order to restore herself to order. The lieutenant stared, shocked into silence, and watched as Leia quickly tied back her hair and tugged on her tunic. “Do we have a registration number?”

“The, um, the ship--” The lieutenant scrambled for his datapad, following as Leia began walking. “We don’t know, we think the number on file is fake.”

“Cargo register?”

“Droid parts bound for Mon Calamari, but--”

Leia scowled, moving back to the bridge to examine the alerts on screen. “Focus our attention on that ship! Make the TIE fighters ready and prepare my ship.”

“Commander, are we sure--”

“There is not the time to hesitate! No ship leaves this planet without an Imperial survey! Those who resist will be restrained by force.” Leia commanded, reaching out to begin relaying her orders through the tactical table. “Let us hope that we get a chance to  _ truly _ show our power.”

+++

Luke had to admit, it wasn’t the smoothest takeoff he’d ever experienced. First there’d been the issue of  _ finding _ Captain Solo, which had taken longer than he’d wanted. Solo hadn’t come to the ship right away, instead delaying to carry out another “business meeting” in a different hangar, and Luke had ended up sitting onboard the Falcon with Chewbacca, the first mate. Luke had been pleasantly surprised to identify Chewbacca as a Wookiee, a furry bipedal humanoid originally from Kashyyk, and had spent a productive few minutes establishing the basics of Basic-Wookiee communication. Without the proper vocal cords, no Wookie could truly speak Basic, but Luke had practiced his abilities over years of interacting with non-humans. Within the hour, he’d managed to sketch out the basic meanings of Chewbacca’s vocalizations, and was feeling slightly more prepared to face a long-haul transition back to Alderaan.

By the time Solo swaggered back to landing pad forty nine, Luke had given the up-front payment to Chewbacca and was waiting in the domestic area behind the main cockpit. With the confirmation of details, and a reassurance that the droids would be properly secured, the odd collection of beings was finally airborne, leaving behind the dusty expanse of Tatooine entering its night side.

At this point, Luke had spent several hours walking, bargaining, or thinking. He had not spent much time in those hours properly resting, and the relative comfort of the Falcon’s domestic spaces combined with the fact that he could properly  _ sit  _ meant that Luke began to doze lightly as the Falcon climbed out of Tatooine’s atmosphere. Much of his life had been spent on ships, shuttling from one rendevous point to another, and he was able to rest even as the Falcon began to jump slightly with sharp jerks and turns.

“I’m tryin’, Chewie, believe me!”

In answer, the Wookie roared something indistinct, and Luke rubbed his face in fatigue as he tried to determine what was happening. Around him the Falcon shook once, recovering from an impact as Solo tried to keep them on course.

“Threepio? Threepio, what’s going on?”

“I believe, Master Luke, that we have encountered a blockade.” Threepio held tightly to his restraints, watching the Falcon quiver. 

“A blockade?” Luke shook his head, forcing himself to awareness. Unbuckling himself from his restraints, he stumbled into the Falcon’s cockpit, staring out at the space ahead of them. “Captain Solo--”

“Call me Han, kid, it’ll be faster.” Working quickly at the control panels, Han worked to keep the Falcon steady as they faced the long nose of the Imperial Star Destroyer. “Something’s got them  _ real _ heated! They’ve only been in orbit a day.”

“I suppose they work faster when they’re under pressure.” Luke muttered, sliding into the seat behind Han. “This was part of the fee, remember.”

“I remember, I remember.” Han waved him away, turning off an incipient incoming frequency. “We’ve managed to fake out a systems malfunction, but those hangar doors are opening up. I’m good, but Chewie and I won’t be able to hold off too many of those TIE fighters if they send them out. We don’t see them out this far, but with the Rebel activity--”

“The Rebels are fighting to free the galaxy.” Luke said lowly, gripping the edge of his seat. Han merely snorted, banking the Falcon sharply to one side in an attempt to divert.

“The  _ Rebels _ keep interrupting business. The Hutts were bad enough, but trying to navigate Rebel patrols, Imperial security, and pirates, well.” Han scowled, flicking on a set of deflector shields. “There’s a reason I had to take your job.”

“I--” Luke prepared to protest further, but was rocked suddenly as a volley of shots hit the Falcon’s side. Han cursed, accompanying Chewie’s distressed roar, and continued his frantic work at the control panel.

“Listen, if we’re gonna get out of here in one piece, I’m gonna need someone to kick it up a notch.” The Falcon shuddered again, and Chewie roared his concern as he scrambled out of the co-pilot’s seat. “Yeah, yeah, partner, you check on that. Listen, kid, the lightspeed engines are gonna need some time to position, and the computer’s all off-set from the hits. There’s a cannon on the port side, if you could just set down some covering fire--”

“You want me to  _ fire _ on them?”

“You’re a Rebel sympathizer, right? This should be old hat!” Han exclaimed, turning to look at Luke. “The Rebels fight the Imperials. The Imperials fight the Rebels. Guys like me, caught in the middle, well, we have to fight our way out.”

“You don’t--” Luke shuddered, annoyed at the pilot’s developing political views. “Could Artoo help? He can talk to the computers, get them calibrated more quickly.”

“I’m not letting a random droid handle the Falcon’s systems! Let off a few shots and Chewie and I’ll get us to hyperspace!” Han pointed angrily to the starboard side, prompting Luke to stand reluctantly and move through the swooping starship. Han did have a point: the Rebels did tend to have a military presence for many of their movements. Luke had experienced his fair share of the fighting, but he was not  _ skilled _ at it, and as he settled into the Falcon’s cannon pod, he tried to still his racing thoughts.

The TIES were darting from the ISD hangar now, only a single squadron zipping in clean crisp lines towards the Falcon. Luke rested his hands on the firing controls, taking a deep breath, and squeezed three times in succession.

The kickback from the cannons made him wince, but the bright red bolts shot through space to carve a narrow path through the other fighters. Through the formation, another, sleeker fighter darted down, headed straight for the Falcon at frightening speed. Luke spun his seat to let off another volley of shots, pleased to see the lead fighter dive suddenly to avoid the bolts. 

“Hey, kid?”

Luke blinked at the fuzz of a comm at his elbow, pressing a button quickly to respond. “Han?”

“Their commander must be in something special, that’s no TIE I’ve seen before.”

“If we get to lightspeed, it won’t matter!”

“Fine, sure! What I’m saying is, the Falcon can outrun some basic fighters, but that one’s gonna be harder to trick. Hold on tight, and try to focus your fire!”

“Han--” Luke gritted his teeth, closing his eyes as he settled into a more consistent pattern of fire. He’d fled from one space battle already: he couldn’t afford to fail in this one. He focused on the viewport in front of him in order to start canvassing the area with bolts, ignoring the shaking and jittering of the cannon pod as he tried to focus his fire. It was like Han had said: the Falcon was keeping ahead of the average TIEs, and Luke was gratified to see them scatter as he sent off another round of shots. However, the other fighter maintained a close tail on the Falcon, looping in complex maneuvers to outrun Luke’s wild shots.

“You sure you’re a Rebel, kid? Most of ‘em tend to be better shots.”

“I’m not a--” Luke gasped as he finally hit a fighter, pausing to let the cannon recharge before continuing the assault. The screams of the engines and the roar of the cannon filled his head, and he forced himself to take long, deep breaths as he focused on the space outside the viewport. As the noises faded away, he leaned forward into the cannon, letting his eyes guide his movements as he followed the multiple ships across his vision.

First there was another impact, the Falcon rocking again, but Luke’s next two shots hit home. As he swung across the viewport, another fighter disappeared in a bloom of flame, the other TIEs scattering around the explosion. The lead fighter dove forward again, screaming toward the Falcon, and Luke leaned back against his seat as he tried to pull up and meet the fighter with the cannon bolts. He could see the darkness of the cockpit, the viewport that displayed the fighter’s cockpit, and as the craft raced toward him, he could feel the fear that pierced him. It terrified him. The shields might not hold, the bolts might not land, and death loomed close.

At the last moment, the fighter pulled up, racing only a few meters above his head as he tried to fire off another shot. However, the Falcon banked again, and Luke released the cannon controls in confusion as the stars outside streaked across the viewport. Finally, with a final tearing screech, the Millenium Falcon ripped into hyperspace, bathing Luke in a bright blue light as realspace dropped away.

Luke was surprised to find himself breathing heavily, the adrenaline in his system now leaving him cold and chilled. The buzzing at his elbow reminded him of the comm, and he shook himself back to reality in order to focus on the words still coming from the cockpit.

“Good work, kid! You had me worried there for a second. Chewie’s got us up and running, and we should be good to go! Alderaan, here we come!”

“Yeah.” Luke slumped in the seat, trying to remind himself of where he was. What was he doing? Right. Alderaan. Tapes. The Rebel Alliance. The droids. 

Thrusting himself out of the cannon pod, Luke stumbled back to the Falcon’s main bay, nodding distractedly to Chewie before setting himself in the Falcon’s seating space. Threepio and Artoo looked to him, a concerned whistle indicating Artoo’s query, but Luke ignored them as he closed his eyes to rest. They would be fine. He would get the tapes to Senator Organa, and then he would be on Alderaan, and the real work could continue. The Rebel Alliance would succeed, and the Empire would be pushed back another step. 

Despite his best intentions, Luke ended up falling asleep against the battered game table of the Falcon’s main bay, losing himself to the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

Luke woke to feel his head muddy and clouded, the short nap only confusing him further rather than clarifying him. He groaned, sitting up against the cushioned seat, and rubbed his eyebrow as See-Threepio similarly awoke.

“Oh, Master Luke! I believe we’ve made the jump to hyperspace.”

“Yeah, Threepio, I was there.” Luke forced himself to take a deep breath, reliving the last few hours before adjusting his position. Sleep was in short supply around here, it seemed, and his body ached. His mind whirled. At least the droids had the excuse of powering down.

With another few deep breaths, Luke relaxed his shoulders, keeping his eyes closed to let the darkness keep a hold of him. In his mind’s eye, he pictured a planet, huge and gauzy, its color a clear blue against the darkness of space. Each breath grew deeper and deeper; the intervals between each breath grew longer and longer. Were it up to him, he would spend most of his rest periods this way, easing himself into sleep rather than dropping unexpectedly into sleep like a fall from a tree. 

He could hear the voices, soft and feminine, that had guided him in this process. He had been an agreeable child, eager to please, but his focus tended to waver.  _ No, Luke. We discipline the mind as well as the body. _

He had met teachers, a variety of figures, and his mother had been very careful about introducing him to each one. He had met Torgruta, Twi’leks, Duros and humans, clad in dusty robes or the armor of generals. His mother would guide him to them, make the proper introductions, and then he would learn.

_ You have a great force within you. An ability which connects you to the rest of the galaxy. _

His mother did not always like his learning. She would relocate them at random, always moving, never staying in one place long enough for the Empire to find them. He had grown up under that shadow, finding a place for himself regardless of the size of the ship or the species of its pilot, and he had listened to his teachers. 

_ Listen for it, Luke. Can you hear my heartbeat? My breathing? It matches yours.  _

He could picture this planet, the surfaces teeming with life, the oceans swarming with energy. It glowed in his mind, pulling him away from his body and soothing the muscles wearied from exertion and stress. 

_ Can you feel the blocks? Find them with your own energy, connect yourself to them. Reach out. Make them move. _

Tumbling exercises and games had engaged him for a long while, and to his relief, his mother had worked with him to show him how to meditate. She often meditated before she gave speeches, and he was allowed to join her in this quiet, private time, sitting beside her on a small mat or cushion to practice the deep breathing and calm thinking. By this point, it was second nature to him.

“Luke?” The voice was rough and jovial, jarring Luke from his thoughts, and he jerked back in surprise to find Han Solo sitting across from him. Han offered his wry smile, leaning on the games table, and cocked one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Oh, good, you’re alive.”

“Han.” Luke kept his expression neutral, able to revert more comfortably into the attitude of the diplomat. “I need to rest before we reach Alderaan.”

“Sure, sure. I just wanted to check, you know--” Han shrugged his shoulders again, equivocating. “You  _ aren’t _ actually a Rebel, are you? I mean, I asked, but.”

“Would it matter if I was? I’ve paid the advance money. And I can get you the rest when we land.”

“I just ain’t seen one before, that’s all.” Han leaned forward again, eyes narrowing as if he truly was studying Luke closely. “The Imperials say you’re the cause of the troubles we’ve been having.”

“The Imperials also torture their prisoners and enforce military law on any planet that doesn’t toe the line.” Luke retorted grimly. “You might not notice, since you live outside the law anyway, but most citizens don’t deserve to be treated like criminals.”

“The  _ law _ .” Han snorted, leaning back again. “Well, as long as you pay, I can’t complain. Anything special planned for when you get to Alderaan?”

“I--” Luke hesitated, considering a new tack. “Before that. What was that fighter back there? How did you know it was different?”

“The wing shape, for one. TIEs have a pretty basic setup, which means they crumple like a house of cards if you knock ‘em too rough, but their leader had a reinforced array and a longer cockpit. Might hold torpedoes, at a guess.” 

“So why not make all of them that way?” Luke mused.

“Costs. Gets pricy when you’re making millions of units at a time.” Han nodded, standing to move back to the cockpit. “Well, it’s been an enlightening discussion about politics and economy, but I have a ship to fly. Come on up if you get bored.”

“Um. Thanks.” Luke blinked, watching Han move back to the cockpit with his easy swagger. He forced himself to remember that Han was a smuggler: it wasn’t worth his time to get involved in the politics of the Rebellion. People all over the galaxy still lived their lives--all of Tatooine was just  _ living _ without the Rebellion involved! 

And yet still, beneath the fabric of his robes, Luke still had the tapes. If Han knew of them, he might find it more profitable to turn Luke in for a substantial reward. Was there a reward out? Luke couldn’t be sure. But the intensity of the blockade seemed to indicate that the Empire was desperate to get the tapes back. Enough to start sacrificing TIE pilots, at least.

Senator Organa would know what to do, he finally decided. He was just the courier, just a pickup who had the authority and relative immunity to move between planets surreptitiously. He did not make  _ decisions _ . He simply tried to do his best. 

+++

Leia stared at the rosters before her, filtering through the information at an inhuman speed. The computers were desperately processing the information being beamed up from the planet below, trying to determine what was important or unimportant, but Leia wanted  _ all  _ of it. She had felt the pull, the tug of the Force, even as she’d made her last run at the smuggler’s ship. With Vader’s training, she had emerged as a daredevil pilot, pushing herself and her ship up to their very limits. Her training, too, had taught her to listen to the impulses that pulled her across the galaxy, but here she hesitated. She had  _ felt _ something on that ship. A growing challenge? A key to the Rebellion? She could not ignore it, and yet there was nothing to justify an extended search.

Her time was running out. Tarkin and Vader would expect an update, some further information. And she deserved to be somewhere else, doing the real work of the Empire, hunting down these rebels and extinguishing their cells one by one.

She could stand at the bridge of a Star Destroyer and still feel so  _ lost _ , whirling here in space.

Her fear was a tangible thing. She’d learned that early, how to find it and feel it. Sidious had been ruthless with his enforcement, berating her and mocking her when she’d felt the urge to cry. Vader had been her solace in those moments, unable to interfere with Sidious directly but available to comfort her at the end of the day. Vader, too, had taught her how to feel that fear, and then how to let it drive her, to push her onward. 

She reached inside herself now, breathing deeply to feel the rush of energy that built around her, and reached out for the very power of the stars themselves. The galaxy screamed out for order, and she was a tool in the hand that would provide it. And yet the Rebellion fractured that vision, shattered the perfection of Sidious’s plan, threatened the very core of her purpose. 

“My lady.” A lieutenant arrived at her elbow, standing primly in Imperial readiness as Leia returned to herself. “My lady, there have been updated reports from a variety of vessels.”

“Is this relevant, Lieutenant?” Leia turned partially, restraining her irriation.

“One of the techs managed to get through the info-dump from the Tatooine spaceport, the Mos Espa portion. We think we’ve got a trace on that corvette we were pursuing.”

“A trace?” Leia gestured for the lieutenant to continue.

“He filed a destination, which might be fake, but they’re on a route to Alderaan.”

“Alderaan? It isn’t unexpected to have smugglers heading to Alderaan--”

“Yes, but Alderaan doesn’t deal with smugglers. Alderaan is one of the Core Worlds, they don’t need smugglers. Even if they did, Alderaan polices itself strictly, restricting the use of weapons or illicit materials. No smuggler would go to Alderaan and hope to make a profit.”

“What are you saying, lieutenant?”

“It’s worth checking, my lady.” The lieutenant smiled tightly, and Leia recognized the same restraint that bound her. She mirrored the expression, a grim delight renewed in her chest, and nodded once.

“Inform Lord Vader that we have a lead to pursue. We’ve been after the Organas for years anyway: perhaps this will be our chance to catch them in their treason.”

“Of course. The  _ Indomitable  _ is standing by to continue our blockade of the planet--”

“Yes, yes, very good.” She knew it. She  _ knew  _ it. That corvette was no mere smuggler, teasing them for fun. “And please, lieutenant: ‘observation’, not ‘blockade’. Governor Tarkin would hate to hear you use such language.”

“Ah. Yes.” The lieutenant saluted once, turning back to return to his station and relay the orders. At last they were moving again. Leia was better at the action, at the movement. It was what made her an effective commander, a dynamic pilot, and it was also what guided her hand in her hunt. First the Jedi, now the Rebellion: for someone of her talents, the Emperor would always identify a target to pursue. Now that she’d scented blood, there was nothing to get in her way.

+++

This whole pattern of space battles was beginning to get irritating. 

Luke did not like to complain. He’d faced his share of discomfort. But to come out of hyperspace near Alderaan and see another Star Destroyer come roaring out of hyperspace was disheartening. 

Han had no such restraint, however, and Luke winced as Han and Chewie shouted corrections to each other as the Star Destroyer angled closer. It wasn’t a guarantee that the Imperials were here for the  _ Falcon _ , but it was growing ever more likely.

“Kid! What did you do?”

“They shouldn’t be able to track us through hyperspace. I thought--” Luke took a deep breath, glancing at the planet serenely rotating below. “How would they know to come to Alderaan?”

Chewie roared, grumbling something to Han, and Luke watched as Han’s expression cycled through disbelief to anger. “What?”

Another warbling groan. “You  _ set a course?” _

Luke blinked. “What does he mean?”

“When we took off from Mos Espa, Chewie had already programmed the computers with our destination. Our  _ real _ destination. If there was a clever enough technician in Mos Espa, they could’ve found the details from the Mos Espa computers.” Han slammed a hand on the control panel, staring daggers at his first mate. “Why would you use our real destination, Chewie?”

Chewie warbled his response, and Luke reached out to place a hand on Chewie’s co-pilot seat. “He’s right: there was no reason for him to assume we’d be traced or pursued, and I didn’t really indicate that my presence was sensitive.”

“Which brings up another point.” Han whirled, flicking on the  _ Falcon’s _ shields. “If the Imperials were after  _ you _ , specifically, then...then--”

“We don’t know that. They could be after  _ you _ .”

“Yeah, sure. Out of all the scum in Mos Espa, they’ve chosen  _ me _ .” Han scoffed, priming the  _ Falcon’s  _ main guns. “I should’ve charged more.”

“I can make it worth your while, truly.” Luke felt the surge of adrenaline, the spike of tension that set his body on edge. “I am a member of the Rebellion. But I think you knew that.”

“I’m just a guy trying to do a job! If I lose my ship over this--”

“If we get to the surface of Alderaan, we can receive immunity from Senator Organa. There are still legal processes in place, especially for Senators, he can negotiate for us.”

“You could get the  _ senator _ on board?” Han let out a low whistle, angling the  _ Falcon _ to begin a curving dive beneath the Star Destroyer down toward the surface of the planet. “I definitely should’ve charged more.”

Luke couldn’t sit, too tense to pretend at relaxation, but for a moment, the  _ Falcon _ seemed to pass unharmed. The Star Destroyer was large, too large to rotate, and Han had jammed the incoming transmissions, meaning that the cockpit was free of the demands from the Star Destroyer’s commander. Luke allowed himself a small smile, the possibility of freedom so close, but a jerk to the Falcon made him stumble to the side as a new warning alarm began to sound.

“Great.” Han sprang into action, adjusting the positioning of the shields. Chewie roared his input, but Han waved him off, pushing more power to the thrusters. 

“Should I, um, get to the cannon pod again?”

“No time. We wouldn’t make a dent in that armor.” Han nodded, revving the engines again. “I should’ve--augh!” He slammed a hand against the control panel again, gritting his teeth. “I didn’t think they’d have the tractor beam ready!”

“They’ve changed tactics.” Luke shrugged, shuddering with another deep breath. “No TIEs, this time. Just the beam.”

“The  _ Falcon’s _ survived tractor beams.” Chewie roared his argument, making Han wince again. “Yeah, but she survived!”

“Han.”

“Listen, kid, if we don’t  _ know _ it’s you they’re after, there’s a chance we can bluff our way through--”

“Han?”

“They’ll try to talk about inspections, but they won’t have any documentation, so we can argue with the deck officer--”

“ _ Han _ .”

“You should just sit, kid, don’t say  _ anything _ . We’ll say you’re part of the crew.”

Luke blinked, slightly flattered and impressed that Han would offer that cover story so casually, but shook his head. “No, I’m telling you, we’re close enough to Alderaan, I can explain. If I explain--”

“If your explanations are what got the Imperials so heated in the first place, I’d hate to hear what you have to say this time.” Han shook his head, gesturing for Luke to sit. “Look busy.”

Luke found himself unable to argue, folding himself into the seat and studying the control panel next to him. As the tractor beam grew stronger, the  _ Falcon’s  _ engines and systems began to protest, and Han adjusted the engines to avoid burning them out. Instead of the back and forth of a pitched battle, this ‘arrest’ was so...quiet. Almost calm. Luke could feel his heart beating, his breaths as he inhaled and exhaled, and he could almost touch that part of his mind that allowed him to see even more of his universe. He could imagine the planet beneath him, the people he cared for: the Senator and his wife, the staff who had been close to him, the thousands of people on Alderaan who had guided him and taught him about the galaxy.

As the  _ Falcon _ was dragged into the Star Destroyer’s hangar and the landing gear slammed against the deckplates, Luke could almost consider himself ‘relaxed’. He was ready to trust Han, for whatever that meant. With another deep breath, Luke sat up straighter, developing the role he was meant to play, when a sharp pain pierced his perception and made him slump back in shock. 

It was heat, and fire, and  _ anger _ . It was sharp as a knife, no: sharper, like a bright light in his vision. He had experienced similar things before, when meeting someone new who might prove to be an enemy. He had learned to trust his instincts, but this--this was something more.

“Han--” Luke struggled to stand, his body weakened by the force of the intrusion. It couldn’t just be stress. It  _ couldn’t _ . “Han, we need to get out of here.”

“Nice try, kid.” Han smirked, tugging on his vest as he stood. “Stay  _ here _ , okay? Chewie’ll look after you.”

“I’m not a--” Luke tried to protest, but found himself unable to follow quickly enough. Chewie watched him silently, the ship powering down as it sat in the hangar, and Luke tried to understand what was happening. Perhaps Han had a point. Perhaps Han could truly talk his way out of this. Perhaps they could--

A thud of metal from the direction of the  _ Falcon’s  _ main door, and Luke grabbed at the seat in front of him to haul himself to his feet. The pain in his head had not disappeared, but it had dulled slightly to let him think more clearly. Chewie stood to follow, reaching out to haul Luke properly to his feet. Luke could hear the sound of Han’s voice at the door, his charisma turned to the max, but the sound of a thud against metal made both Luke and Chewie start forward. 

“Oh! Oh my, I must say--” Luke could hear Threepio’s protests, prompting him to move even faster, and Luke came to the door before Chewie could beat him to it. From each end of the curving hallway, two groups advanced to meet in the center in a rough, confused confrontation.

“Han?”

“ _ You _ .” Someone, a figure in black, led a group of stormtroopers into the hallway, brushing past Han and Threepio now abandoned in the room previous. Luke took a step back, shocked by the harshness of the figure before him. He had seen the images before, the fuzzy holograms or sketches from eyewitnesses. It was a figure designed to inspire  _ fear _ , and Luke had the sinking feeling that the dread in his gut was not merely his own imagination. 

“We’re just on our way to the surface--”

“Lock down this ship!” Anetia. That was right. He remembered that, the code words hidden in Imperial relays, the harshness of this face. A figure kept hidden within the Empire, and yet--

He hadn’t realized that she was so  _ young _ .

The anger in her bearing created lines on her face, intensifying her aspect, and she reached forward to grab at Luke’s robes. She yanked at him, her eyes glancing from him to the Wookiee, and tightened her grip as Chewie roared his protest. 

“Process all of them. Even the droids. Put the Wookie in binders before you try to move him.” Anetia flinched back as Chewie advanced, but she pushed Luke aside to face the Wookie more squarely. The thought, on the face of it, was laughable: the Wookie was easily a foot taller than her, and Luke couldn’t identify any weapons on her person. However, as Chewie tried to step forward, Anetia took a step to counter him, pushing back with the force of her presence.

Chewie roared again, the volume terrifying in such close quarters, and Luke could see the struggle it was for him to move. She was not merely threatening him, she was  _ doing _ something--something else. The weight in Luke’s head bore down on him, crushing him, and he felt himself weakening. Not now--now when they were so close--

He was pulled back, gripped by both forearms, and pulled out of the  _ Falcon,  _ dragged in his increasing daze into the bowels of the Star Destroyer. He could hear Han’s protests, the droids in their twittering, and then the shock of a prod. 

In only a few moments, his galaxy went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke falls asleep a lot. He's under a lot of stress, okay?


	5. Chapter 5

Well.

This definitely qualified as one of Han’s top ten worst detentions. Not that he was keeping a list, or anything. But he’d had enough experience with the prison blocks and detention centers of the galaxy, and he couldn’t help but make some comparisons. The Imperials had a sense of style, that was for sure. And they at least made an attempt at keeping the rooms clean. But they’d separated him from his crew, and that was just unacceptable.

“Crew.” He muttered to himself, rubbing his shoulder where one of the troopers had shoved him against a wall. Yeah, Chewie was his only real crew member. But the kid had shown some promise, and Han had been willing to go ahead with the story that he’d hired him. ‘Luke’, huh. So now it was a Rebellion issue.

His opener hadn’t been that bad: he’d been cordial enough to the deck officer, but the man hadn’t even acknowledged him. Instead, that other person, that woman, had stormed past him, ignoring Han completely. 

“No point in feeling sorry for yourself, Han. You’ve gotten worse receptions at the cantina.” He shifted positions against the bare walls of the cell, reaching up to smooth his hair for the fifteenth time. He considered getting up, perhaps testing the walls for some sort of weakness, but just as he stood, the door to the cell wooshed open, admitting a pair of troopers.

“On your--” The first one hesitated, clearly off-set by Han’s posture. Han merely grinned, pleased by his minor accomplishment, and held out his hands willingly. 

“I’ll even come quietly, officer.”

“Quiet.” The second trooper reached out, grasping Han by the upper arm, and they dragged him into the hallway to begin marching him through the detention block. 

“Hey, y’know, it’s no big deal. If you wanted me to come with you, all you had to do was ask!” Han maintained his smile, more irritated than angered by the experience. The troopers shoved him roughly, but they had to keep him walking, so they couldn’t pause to push him against any other walls. “You know, boys, I’ve been in worse places, if you wanted I could offer a few tips about how the Hutts do things--”

“Be  _ quiet _ .”

“And your commanders, well, they’re definitely not the talkative type. Must make it awkward in the off-duty quarters, right? You should be grateful for a little variety.”

“Quiet.”

“Haven’t seen a female officer too often, though. What is she, a major? That black looks good on her, though, brings out her eyes.”

“Shut  _ up _ .” One of the troopers tossed Han forward, leaving the other to rush forward with him. “We have no reason to make this comfortable for you.”

“Oh, this was comfortable?” Han chuckled, glancing at the expressionless helmet. “I’d hate to see what counts as a day off in your book.”

Both the troopers again took their places, pushing Han in front of them, but it was only a few moments before they came to a larger sliding door. It opened to admit them, letting the troopers bring Han in and bind him to a fixed seat. Despite his easy manner, the change in routine made Han uneasy, and he waited until the troopers withdrew again before examining his surroundings more thoroughly. As he twisted and turned, he noted the figure waiting in the darkness of the room, her gaze cold and unmoving. 

Well. Okay. A meeting with the higher ups, not the worst thing. Though why they had to bind him, he couldn’t tell. 

As the troopers withdrew, the woman moved forward, her cloak hiding her almost entirely in the darkness. Han met her gaze without flinching, forcing himself to hold firm, and grinned at last as she moved in front of him.  _ Easy money _ .

“Captain Han Solo.”

“Oh, I do like it when a woman uses my title.”

“There will be none of your flippancy in this meeting. I need answers.”

“Everyone needs something, lady, but usually it’s a business transaction. Give and take, you get it?” Han raised an eyebrow, shifting his hips forward to try and adopt his easy, relaxed posture. Hard to do, with his hands bound. But manageable.

“There will not be negotiations.”

“Sure there will! I just get the sense that you all aren’t smart about your ‘negotiations’ and want to make things hard for honest, hard-working folks like me.”

“You’re a--” The woman reared back, her teeth bared in a scowl. “You  _ will _ tell me what I want to know.”

“Listen, I’m a low-stakes kinda guy, I don’t know that much! You want me to carry some cargo, I can carry some cargo. That’s all.”

“Where are the tapes?”

“Tapes.” Han repeated stupidly, blinking once. “What tapes?”

“I do not have time for games!”

Han watched her carefully, perplexed by her fervor. She was excitable, somehow, all choppy movements and glares. The light was odd in the room (obviously interrogation, but he was trying not to think about it) and it caught her clothing in strange ways. Her face was almost luminous above the dark collar of her cloak, and her hair was tightly braided around her head. Despite the circumstances, despite the surroundings, there was something about her which was intriguing. If Chewie was here, Han knew he would have a few choice words or warbles about Han’s train of thought.

But really, could he be blamed? It wasn’t every day that he got strapped to a chair in front of an interesting, attractive woman. Sure, he didn’t have a  _ name _ to go off of, and she would probably start with the torture sooner rather than later, but still. Her dark eyes stared at him, bright with intensity, and Han sat a little straighter to consider what she was looking for.

“You want information? It’s all there in the computer. We were hired to do a job, and we were doing it. That’s all.”

“Your passenger is a wanted criminal.”

“Oh, hey, now, that’s a little harsh. I know criminals, lady.”

“You will call me Lady Anetia.”

“Anetia?” Han quirked a smile, tilting his head. “Pretty. Must be a trend on this ship.” She stared at him, expression grim, and Han’s grin slowly faded. “Right. Lady Anetia.”

“By carrying him, you are an accomplice in his terrorist actions.”

“Luke? A terrorist?” Sure, Han had had his doubts about Luke, but he hadn’t seemed like the type. “Okay, here’s the thing--I  _ know _ criminals. Not that I am one! I just. Encounter some unsavory individuals in my line of work. Luke’s just a kid who got stuck on the wrong side of the galaxy.”

“Who are your contacts on Alderaan?”

“I don’t know! You didn’t let us call traffic control!”

“Where were you meeting the senator?”

“What senator?” Han blinked in confusion, leaning back as Anetia approached. Suddenly, she grabbed the armrests of the chair, shocking him backwards and making him tense. 

“Listen, smuggler, I--” She had to pause as a rumble shook the ship, muted alarms coming on and quickly quieting.

“Sounds like there’s an issue.”

“Idiots.” Anetia straightened again, moving to the door. Even as she opened it to the hallway, another alarm started, and the sound of a low roar could be heard from far away. Han grinned, bracing himself against his seat, and tugged at his restraints as Anetia hesitated.

Odd, that. Usually the Imperials were much more assured of their aims.

“So that would be Chewie.”

“What is--” Anetia slammed her fist against a wall intercom, hissing out an order. Han glanced at his restraints again, focusing on the latch mechanism, but was unable to rotate his wrists properly or find a better angle. Was this a rescue attempt? Usually Han would talk Chewie out of these things, but maybe there was something Han didn’t know. He usually relied on it, frankly. But without being able to  _ join _ the uprising, Han was out of luck. 

Anetia grabbed for something at her belt, but the sound of boots against the floor made her pause. Han couldn’t see much from his position in the chair, but he could hear as Anetia withdrew her weapon, igniting it to suddenly bathe her in red light. It wasn’t a blaster--Han knew blasters. This was something else, something darker, and as she adjusted her grip, Han felt a sudden wave of dread wash over him.

What was she? 

“Han!” A shout made Han blink, and he grinned to hear the sound of shots and scuffles from the hallway. That was Luke, he was sure of it, but what was going on? As a blaster was fired, Anetia moved to block the shots, deflecting them with that hideous blade. 

“You don’t have to go through all this effort to protect me, sweetheart, though I’m flattered.”

“ _ Quiet _ .” Anetia hissed, not bothering to look back as she charged down the hallway. There was one thing for sure: she really could move, if the situation demanded it. Han frowned, yanking on his restraints again, and suddenly yanked his hand upward to find his restraints popping open. He stumbled forward quickly to hear a triumphant chirping and trilling from the door to the hallway, and emerged into the light to find Artoo-Detoo spinning in excitement. 

Han had mostly ignored the droids, finding them of little consequence, but now he shouted his triumph alongside the little astromech as he patted the thing’s ‘head’. “Thanks, buddy. What’s going on?”

A foolish question, though Artoo did his best to answer: in a series of whirrs and chirps, Artoo turned to set off down the hallway, moving in the opposite direction from Anetia. Han hurried to follow, smoothing his vest and shirt by reflex, and turned a corner to run into Chewbacca.

“Chewie!” A roar of greeting accompanied a rough embrace, and Han laughed as Chewbacca checked him over. “Listen, you’re doing great, but if this is a real jailbreak, we need something better than the astro droid and a diversion.”

Chewbacca roared his acknowledgement, explaining briefly the goal of their actions, and Han nodded to consider it. It was rough, it was risky, and it was outstandingly stupid.

It was as good a plan as he could’ve invented.

“And you’re saying this was Luke’s idea?” Chewie roared his confirmation, and Han shook his head. “From rube to rascal. I can’t get a read on this kid.” 

Chewie didn’t respond, but yanked Han forward, dragging him through a variety of hallways and corridors. Sure, they’d get back to the  _ Falcon _ , and there was an off-chance they’d make it out of the Star Destroyer’s reach. It was possible. 

For a moment, Han considered whether they needed to wait for Luke. The kid was the one they wanted, right? The Imperials wouldn’t bother if they had Luke. Even as he considered it, however, Han felt an odd sickly feeling aching in his throat, and he shook his head to dispel it. No. They would get him out, even if they had to go back in for him. A droid, a Wookie, and one smuggler? They could manage it. Somehow.

+++

Luke panted, feeling his shoes grip against the polished surface of the Star Destroyer’s interior. He hadn’t been entirely honest with Chewbacca--yes, he’d managed to overpower his captors, but it had been easier than he’d anticipated. There had been so much fear, so much terror in his heart, but he had focused just on the person who had been placed as a guard. A person, not a trooper. He knew that beneath the helmets, they were just as human as he was. And with that knowledge, somehow, it was easier to convince them.

He’d just...talked. They’d come into the cell and removed their helmet, and Luke had studied the man it had revealed. Just a man. He’d seemed almost drugged, somehow, in a strange stupor, but Luke had just talked to him in the same soothing tones that Bail Organa always used. Reassuring, and convincing, until...well, he hadn’t fully thought it out. He’d put on the armor and left the man in his cell, and then begun his exploration of the ship.

‘Exploration’ was a grandiose term. He’d looked for the droids and been surprised to find them in an unsecured unit, restraining bolts limiting their movement. With Threepio sent to start the Falcon, Luke and Artoo had begun the process of finding Han and Chewie. Chewie had been a valuable find, but when it was revealed that Han had been removed from his cell, Luke had adjusted the plan. 

This ship was a nightmare, but Luke had learned. He had kept calm. His mother always kept calm, even when she was giving speeches or having to fight, and he relied on that now. The blaster was hot and heavy in his hand, and he could feel it weighing him down. Bail had always hated the things, and refused to carry one. Luke could recall the arguments, the way his mother had defended herself to Bail.

But now he had the gun in his hands. And the fear was returning.

As he ran, he could feel so much more around him. He could feel the weight of this ship, suspended above a perfect blue planet. He could feel the fear and hunger of the other men and women, the troopers and officers. And he could feel  _ her _ . 

She was like a firebrand, something beautiful and bright and blinding. As he’d ducked through corridors and skirted patrols, he could feel her growing stronger, until turning a corner, he’d found an empty hallway with Artoo tootling his approval. He’d had to turn quickly, to shoot wildly at a lieutenant racing toward him in another direction, but then Chewie had roared and--

Artoo had left him. Chewie had circled around. And the woman, this person, she had appeared in the doorway, and drawn a lightsaber.

It was terrible and awful, and Luke could not tell why. He had been told about them. He’d even been allowed to touch one, once, as a child. His teachers had only explained them briefly, but his mother and Bail had explained how they were noble weapons. The weapons of the Jedi. They were beautiful. But this thing, this ragged scar in the universe, it bled pain and hatred, and Luke could feel it down to his very core.

He’d raised his blaster to shoot, but the few glancing shots were easily deflected, and the woman had advanced on him faster than he’d thought possible. When he turned to run, he hadn’t chosen a specific path, and his feet had taken him through the Star Destroyer on a desperate twisting loop.

When he’d reached an engineering level, he forced himself to stop, to face the thing pursuing him. He wouldn’t be able to return to the  _ Falcon _ if he couldn’t focus, and so he slowed, pacing through the darkness in the clunky armor. 

She had slowed, too. He wasn’t certain what to make of her pursuit, but he listened and sensed. She had not identified him directly, and he glanced at the consoles nearest him to try and understand the format of the ship. It was huge, bigger than almost any other he’d visited previously, and he tried to make sense of the huge wells and turbines visible on the display screens. How far had he run? And what would it take for him to get back to the  _ Falcon _ ?

Scanning the labels, Luke began to orient himself one painful step at a time. Had the staff all been dismissed? Or perhaps this ship was so big that not every station was manned permanently. There weren’t any security items, just basic engineering consoles, and Luke berated himself for not having paid more attention to other ships. He had spent more time with diplomats and strategists, not pilots and mechanics. Han would have been better suited for this kind of thing.

The sound of other feet against the deck plates made Luke pause, and he realized that he’d dropped the blaster from ready position. Turning, he backed away from the entrance he’d used, feeling his nerves tense again as the low hum of the saber became audible once more. He’d run so far already--all he needed to do was to keep going. Certainly Han and Chewie would have made it to the  _ Falcon  _ by now. But he hesitated, raising his blaster and using his other hand to stabilize his grip, and set his posture as the woman appeared around the corner. 

He hadn’t imagined it the first time: just the sight of her provoked a dread in him, a pain derived from something deep and primal. This time, however, Luke held his ground, focusing on her face instead of the depth of that red blade in her hand. 

Vader, he knew. Darth Vader was not a well-known member of the Imperial hierarchy, but enough people had seen him that he could at least be verified. This person was something else, someone else, and yet she carried a lightsaber.

“Who are you?” Luke was surprised to hear his voice come out smooth and calm, stronger than he’d anticipated. Even just saying the words made him feel different, and he stood taller to face the woman.

As a reply, she gripped the saber more tightly. “You’re Luke Organa.”

“Well. I suppose so, yes.”

“You’re too short to be a stormtrooper.” A grim smile appeared on her features. “Put down the blaster.”

“You’ve still got the lightsaber.” Luke held his blaster higher, backing away as she advanced. “Listen, since we’re talking--”

“We’ll be talking when I have you in interrogation.” She advanced again, adjusting her grip to swing the blade down to her side. “Make it easy on yourself.”

“Oh.” Luke blinked, shifting around a console to give himself cover. “I’d be happy to help, really, but--”

Before he could finish, the woman dashed forward, swinging the blade around to aim at Luke’s head. Luke threw himself to the side, squeezing the trigger of the blaster by instinct as he half-rolled, half-fell into another console. 

“Please! You could put down the saber!” Luke shouted to be heard now over the volume of the lightsaber, and scrambled to his feet as the woman advanced again. Luke raised the blaster to squeeze off another shot, watching her deflect the energy into a nearby console. 

“You are a Rebel!” 

“I thought you already decided that!” Luke adjusted his grip again, managing to get off a few more shots as he dodged backwards. The woman was impressive, weaving her deflections into her advancing movements, and Luke watched the blaster bolts scorch another few consoles. “You don’t need me to confirm that.”

“Enough games!” That deadly blade swung again, and Luke scampered back, hearing the screech of metal as something behind him twisted. He spared a glance back to see another console twisting unnaturally, the metal and wiring unfolding to block him in. 

With a heroic burst of speed, Luke dashed into another corridor, hearing more of the consoles rattling and shearing around him. He had been raised well. His tastes had been refined, cultured. But even he had a few choice words for the sensation of being chased by an unknown maniac with a lightsaber.

How had he allowed this to happen? Beneath the armor, beneath the underclothes he’d been wearing for several days already, the tapes still rubbed against his skin, the vital pieces of information clad in flimsy metal and plastic. He should have passed them to Threepio, but there had been no time in their arrest--the only saving grace was that he hadn’t been searched fully, and their scans had shown nothing.

He couldn’t die here. There was too much at stake.

Ducking beneath another formation, Luke shot wildly, glancing again at the labels on the consoles. Nothing he did would be enough to put this ship out of commission, but it was worth a shot. If Han had started up the Falcon, then there might be a real chance.

“You should have learned more from Han! He’s the real brains of the operation!” Insults did not come naturally to Luke’s good humor, but taunts were a different matter. He could hear the aggrieved groan of his aggressor, watching her carve her way through the consoles between them with quick, deft movements of her lightsaber. Terrifying, that. But powerful. 

“You toy with forces beyond your comprehension, boy!”

“Boy? I have a name!” Luke nodded, dodging a flying control panel as she ripped it from the wall. “I’m sure you have a name, but you don’t want to hear the ones I’ve invented for you.”

“Augh!” Her shouts were enough for Luke to keep track of her progress, but as he reached another corridor, he realized he hadn’t made it back to the main hallway. Instead, an entry port allowed him into a darker section, and he squeezed through to find himself facing another row of panels and monitors.

With a shrug, he raised his blaster to start shooting at the equipment, though the sound of the lightsaber behind him prompted him onward. The smaller observation station led out to a narrow walkway, below which a steep drop rumbled with the pulse of the engines. Luke winced as he faced it, but the adrenaline in his veins prevented him from stopping too long. Even as he ran, he cradled the blaster to his chest, turning back only when he’d reached the other side of the walkway.

She had paused halfway across the walkway, diminished by the huge space around her. Luke could see where her hair had come unraveled from her braids, and watched as she adjusted her stance again, shoulders set and feet planted. She reminded him of someone--her features, her posture all hearkening to a familiar face. He frowned, unable to place it, but raised his blaster in front of him again as a moderate safeguard.

“You realize I could crush you, here and now? Toss you off the side for your body to disappear forever?”

“Wait! No--” Luke tried to think of a way to stall, mind suddenly kicked into overdrive. “I. Um. I could give you information.”

“This is the deal I offered earlier. Now you realize the toll such negotiations will take.”

“Right.” Luke winced, glancing behind him at another console. So many of the things...He turned, slamming a hand over the controls, and stared blankly as the keys failed to respond. Little lights blinked, and a faint clicking indicating some sort of change, but nothing more.

“And to think--we’ve been unable to track the Rebellion for so long.  _ This  _ is the best they have to offer.” The woman sighed, advancing once more, but a sudden shaking forced her to crouch on the walkway and prompted another loud siren to begin its ear-splitting call.

Luke glanced at her, made even smaller by her crouch, and shrugged. “Your alarms are going off again. You know, I’d expected a lot from the Empire, but I didn’t expect the alarms.”

Forcing herself to her knees, the woman flung out a hand in front of her, and Luke felt himself tumbling backwards against the far back wall. The blaster in his hands went skittering away, and he felt a new pain bloom against the back of his head. Still, the armor wasn’t so bad. Another rumbling gave him some mobility, and he wriggled toward another door, ducking through to emerge finally into a more routine-looking hallway.

Imperial architects trended toward the labyrinthine, and Luke had to focus to reorient himself. Down, then up, then over--forcing his legs into action, he launched into a quick job, nearing the hangar bay to hear blaster shots and ship’s engines. He raced forward, nearly running directly into a group of stormtroopers, and skidded to a stop to find a workaround. Yes, that was the  _ Falcon _ , and yes, it was doing  _ something _ to the inside of the ship, but it wasn’t exactly a great place to be running around in.

As Luke watched, however, he could see a path forming. It would be risky, yes, but there--along the side! Taking a deep breath, Luke rushed into a quick sprint, ducking and trying to ignore the shouts of the lieutenants as his movement became visible. A moment of manic threatened to overwhelm Luke, but just as he neared the  _ Falcon _ , the boarding ramp began to lower, and he grinned to see Han just visible through the opening. It would be a long jump, but something inside Luke kept him moving.

_ This is possible _ .

With a huge leap, Luke managed to reach the lower edge of the  _ Falcon _ ’s ramp, and gratefully grasped for Han’s arm as the other man dragged him back into the ship. Out of breath, it took several moments for Luke to collect himself enough to speak, and he patted Han on the back as they moved into the cockpit.

“Thanks for that.”

“Sure thing, kid.” Han grinned easily, slipping back into the pilot’s seat to leave Luke to slouch against the side of the seat. “I mean, after organizing that breakout and letting your droids do the heavy lifting, I figured you were owed something.”

“Well.” Luke exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead. “It’s not nothing, Han. I know that.”

Chewie roared his support, and Han chewed a lip thoughtfully. “Listen, kid. I’m no friend of the Empire, sure, and I’m not a Rebel, but I’m not about to back out on a deal just because the going got rough.”

“Right. Right, um--” Luke closed his eyes as the ship suddenly jumped into hyperspace, Chewie warbling an explanation even as they faced the blinding light of the jump. Luke felt suddenly dizzy, taking a seat in one of the other chairs, and tried to focus. They couldn’t go to Alderaan, not with an ISD there now. He’d been running for several days straight, from Ralteer to Tatooine to Alderaan and now...where? Bail Organa was expecting him! And the Rebellion didn’t have many other bases, nowhere safe enough for him to expect true protection.

“Luke?” Han was speaking now, talking to him. Luke shook himself, sitting up straighter. “Hey, listen, um--you’ve not been on the run much, have you.” 

Luke frowned, uncertain of how to answer. “I don’t see what--”

“No judgement! Just an observation. But if you hang out with senators, then makes sense that this sort of stuff isn’t your specialty.” Han flashed another quick smile, resting against the side of his seat. “Good thing you hired a guy that  _ does _ specialize in that, then.”

“Yeah. Um, Han, about that--”

“Details.” Han waved him off, returning to the console in front of him. “We’ll find a quick place to stop. Plenty of little hops around the galaxy for guys like me. You go in the back, get yourself cleaned up, and we’ll make a plan later.”

“Plan.” Luke repeated, forcing himself to stand. Han was right. He would have to rest, and think.

He couldn’t, he couldn’t stop, not with the tapes still hidden in his possession. The Rebellion needed him. The Rebellion needed the tapes.

He barely managed to make it back into the main section of the  _ Falcon _ before tumbling back into a confused sleep, the adrenaline crash dragging him under. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm back. I really do enjoy this project and I really want to see it through. I'd love to talk about it more and I can pass along my Discord or Tumblr information if you so choose. 
> 
> Yes, I know that this is another chapter where Luke runs a lot and then falls asleep. But in fairness, I think the Original Trilogy tried to show us how much of a baby Luke was, and I intend to remain true to that canon.
> 
> Jokes aside, Luke is kind of weak, and he's facing a terrifying Force user. There's still plot armor in effect, however, and fortunately Han has a heavy helping of "roguish good luck".


End file.
